Today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year.   It is accomplanied by last night's full moon lunar eclipse, the first time these two events have occurred together since 1638.   There is widespread speculation about the metaphysical meaning of the conflation of these two events. For pictures, go here. If you're interested in what this "means," you could start here or here. My "greater meaning" take on it is as pragmatic and practical as I can make it:   when light has disappeared, when the days are the shortest and we are at our lowest point, it is in the very next moment that the light begins to come back.

 

Tomorrow the light returns.   The days begin to grow longer.   We recognize once again the irony and biological reality that the certainty of springtime returning is guaranteed by the first day of winter. For those of us who celebrate Christmas, whether overtly as a religious holiday or not, one of the things we celebrate is the the Light of Spirit birthed as a physical reality into our lives, as seen through a child born in conditions that to the material world were shot through with desperation and poverty, but in the world of Spirit proclaimed the reality of hope and renewal in a message so loud that we still hear it today.

 

In The Two Towers, the second book of The Lord of The Rings series, there is a moment when Gandalf proclaims "This is the turning of the tide."   You think he is crazy. Yes, he has been reuinted with Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas.   But the armies of Mordor and Sauruman are rampaging through Middle Earth, destroying lives, lands, families.   The individual kingdoms that will eventually come together as allies are still fighting their separate battles, believing themselves isolated and ignored.   Merry and Pippen have vanished into Fangorn Forest. Frodo and Sam are lost in their desperate journey to Mordor, with only Gollum as their guide. It is a time of struggle and isolation.   But Gandalf was right. This moment, when darkness and despair seemed to have won, was in reality the moment when their victory was assured.   Everyone was where they needed to be, gathering the allies, the strength, the individual qualities they each needed to make their victory possible. There was loss and grief—never pretend that the hard times, the scary, isolated times don't include this, and don't rationalize away pain and grief and what it can do to us—Frodo always suffers from the wounds of the Nazgul blade, long after the war is over and his quest completed. But alongside that loss, a larger purpose was taking place, one that led to collective and individual triumph.

 

This time of year is busy, with holiday activities, kids home from school. But seasonally and spiritually it is a time of inward reflection, of drawing close to home, of reflecting on the past year and setting our intentions and desires for the next one.   For myself, for all of you, for our families, our community, our politically fragmented country, for our world and our planet, here is mine: where there is darkness, let there be light.   Where there is despair, let there be hope. Where there is fear, let there be peace. Where there is lack, let there be plenty. Where there is pain, let there be healing.   Where there is isolation, let there be community. Where there is grief, let there be love.   May the happiness, prosperity and love already present in your life grow and spread like the lushness of springtime grass across a winter lawn. For all of us, may the light return to our lives in the ways we desire, and in ways even greater than we can currently imagine.

Today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year.   It is accomplanied by last night's full moon lunar eclipse, the first time these two events have occurred together since 1638.   There is widespread speculation about the metaphysical meaning of the conflation of these two events. For pictures, go here. If you're interested in what this "means," you could start here or here. My "greater meaning" take on it is as pragmatic and practical as I can make it:   when light has disappeared, when the days are the shortest and we are at our lowest point, it is in the very next moment that the light begins to come back.

 

Tomorrow the light returns.   The days begin to grow longer.   We recognize once again the irony and biological reality that the certainty of springtime returning is guaranteed by the first day of winter. For those of us who celebrate Christmas, whether overtly as a religious holiday or not, one of the things we celebrate is the the Light of Spirit birthed as a physical reality into our lives, as seen through a child born in conditions that to the material world were shot through with desperation and poverty, but in the world of Spirit proclaimed the reality of hope and renewal in a message so loud that we still hear it today.

 

In The Two Towers, the second book of The Lord of The Rings series, there is a moment when Gandalf proclaims "This is the turning of the tide."   You think he is crazy. Yes, he has been reuinted with Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas.   But the armies of Mordor and Sauruman are rampaging through Middle Earth, destroying lives, lands, families.   The individual kingdoms that will eventually come together as allies are still fighting their separate battles, believing themselves isolated and ignored.   Merry and Pippen have vanished into Fangorn Forest. Frodo and Sam are lost in their desperate journey to Mordor, with only Gollum as their guide. It is a time of struggle and isolation.   But Gandalf was right. This moment, when darkness and despair seemed to have won, was in reality the moment when their victory was assured.   Everyone was where they needed to be, gathering the allies, the strength, the individual qualities they each needed to make their victory possible. There was loss and grief—never pretend that the hard times, the scary, isolated times don't include this, and don't rationalize away pain and grief and what it can do to us—Frodo always suffers from the wounds of the Nazgul blade, long after the war is over and his quest completed. But alongside that loss, a larger purpose was taking place, one that led to collective and individual triumph.

 

This time of year is busy, with holiday activities, kids home from school. But seasonally and spiritually it is a time of inward reflection, of drawing close to home, of reflecting on the past year and setting our intentions and desires for the next one.   For myself, for all of you, for our families, our community, our politically fragmented country, for our world and our planet, here is mine: where there is darkness, let there be light.   Where there is despair, let there be hope. Where there is fear, let there be peace. Where there is lack, let there be plenty. Where there is pain, let there be healing.   Where there is isolation, let there be community. Where there is grief, let there be love.   May the happiness, prosperity and love already present in your life grow and spread like the lushness of springtime grass across a winter lawn. For all of us, may the light return to our lives in the ways we desire, and in ways even greater than we can currently imagine.

Today is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year.   It is accomplanied by last night's full moon lunar eclipse, the first time these two events have occurred together since 1638.   There is widespread speculation about the metaphysical meaning of the conflation of these two events. For pictures, go here. If you're interested in what this "means," you could start here or here. My "greater meaning" take on it is as pragmatic and practical as I can make it:   when light has disappeared, when the days are the shortest and we are at our lowest point, it is in the very next moment that the light begins to come back.

 

Tomorrow the light returns.   The days begin to grow longer.   We recognize once again the irony and biological reality that the certainty of springtime returning is guaranteed by the first day of winter. For those of us who celebrate Christmas, whether overtly as a religious holiday or not, one of the things we celebrate is the the Light of Spirit birthed as a physical reality into our lives, as seen through a child born in conditions that to the material world were shot through with desperation and poverty, but in the world of Spirit proclaimed the reality of hope and renewal in a message so loud that we still hear it today.

 

In The Two Towers, the second book of The Lord of The Rings series, there is a moment when Gandalf proclaims "This is the turning of the tide."   You think he is crazy. Yes, he has been reuinted with Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas.   But the armies of Mordor and Sauruman are rampaging through Middle Earth, destroying lives, lands, families.   The individual kingdoms that will eventually come together as allies are still fighting their separate battles, believing themselves isolated and ignored.   Merry and Pippen have vanished into Fangorn Forest. Frodo and Sam are lost in their desperate journey to Mordor, with only Gollum as their guide. It is a time of struggle and isolation.   But Gandalf was right. This moment, when darkness and despair seemed to have won, was in reality the moment when their victory was assured.   Everyone was where they needed to be, gathering the allies, the strength, the individual qualities they each needed to make their victory possible. There was loss and grief—never pretend that the hard times, the scary, isolated times don't include this, and don't rationalize away pain and grief and what it can do to us—Frodo always suffers from the wounds of the Nazgul blade, long after the war is over and his quest completed. But alongside that loss, a larger purpose was taking place, one that led to collective and individual triumph.

 

This time of year is busy, with holiday activities, kids home from school. But seasonally and spiritually it is a time of inward reflection, of drawing close to home, of reflecting on the past year and setting our intentions and desires for the next one.   For myself, for all of you, for our families, our community, our politically fragmented country, for our world and our planet, here is mine: where there is darkness, let there be light.   Where there is despair, let there be hope. Where there is fear, let there be peace. Where there is lack, let there be plenty. Where there is pain, let there be healing.   Where there is isolation, let there be community. Where there is grief, let there be love.   May the happiness, prosperity and love already present in your life grow and spread like the lushness of springtime grass across a winter lawn. For all of us, may the light return to our lives in the ways we desire, and in ways even greater than we can currently imagine.